The constant little things
by Strangely Tawny
Summary: Edmund's thoughts during Peter's duel with Miraz and a conversation back in England. Movie-verse ish with reference to the Golden Age. Please read and review. Rated for a bit of bad language.


Edmund knew that his brother was struggling against Miraz – the man's greater physical strength gave him the advantage, something Peter badly needed. Undeniably, Peter's skill served him well in the duel, but not to the extent where he was preventing the shit being kicked out of him. Several times.

It made something in Edmund's chest clench when he saw his brother's shield arm snap horribly at the elbow, and he had to fight to keep the stoic mask as the two hard-headed kings call for a truce.

"Keep smiling," he said calmly, watching the tense faces of the Narnian troops. They'd all seen how the duel had fared, and needed to know that their king was unfazed by the way things were panning out. Peter grinned that charming Public Relations grin, honed to a thing of beauty after years of dealing with difficult ambassadors and foreign dignitaries. Edmund turned to set out the stool for Peter, as his brother raised his sword above his head – everyone's perfect hero.

It wasn't that Edmund cared about not being the poster-boy for Narnian royalty – far from it, he preferred the way people underestimated him. It was more that Edmund was tired of how much responsibility Peter tried to put on himself.

Like he was the only one allowed to have problems or something ridiculous like that. Edmund snorted to himself at that thought, who was it who had stayed up half the night writing that declaration to Miraz the night before? He couldn't have helped the ghost of a smile when Miraz had commented on the sharpness of Peter's pen. Although he loved his brother dearly, the guy could barely string two diplomatic sentences together for a treaty, usually leaving it to Edmund to sort out the paperwork of the international deals.

Jerking himself from his thoughts, Edmund turned to see Peter sitting, trembling, on the stool, his face had a greyish tinge to it, and Edmund noted the sweat beading on his forehead.

"I – I think it's dislocated," he said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. Edmund knew his brother's façade when he played it, and it amused him no end.

It transported Edmund back to a time when they were both older… or younger…

He remembered the other times when he had saved Peter from disaster. The other times when Peter wasn't aware that Edmund was the one looking after him.

----

"_Peter, as you are grievously wounded right now, I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear you publicly announce your engagement to Lilliah-vey. It must have been a slip of the tongue… understandable really, old chap – I mean, you've got a very impressive hole in your leg at the moment…" Edmund wiped the blood off his brother's face and then marched out of the tent to quash the sea of rumours already flying around the camp regarding a certain Narnian king and a cyclopic giantess. _

_----_

"_If you don't come back into this room right now and make a decision concerning the giants, Peter, I'll, I'll… I'll make the decision and you can look incompetent in front of the whole council!" Edmund hated having to pull that line on Peter, but it really worked – Peter hated to be seen as weak or vulnerable, even by his own family. Scowling and throwing Edmund the nastiest of looks, Peter stalked back into the Council Room and began to bark orders and statistics, viciously taking back control of the negotiations. _

_----_

"_Peter, can you just do a quick tour around the Northern borders? I have reports that there's some unrest, and it would be simply fantastic if you could just go and shake some hands and cut a ribbon or two." _

"_What? Why? I'm not ignoring them." _

"_Do you want a full scale rebellion? Do you want to slaughter your own citizens?" Peter shoved Edmund so hard that the younger man stumbled back into the table strewn with maps. The dark haired king rubbed his sore hip and fixed his brother with a terrible look, _

"_Pete, you will go to the North and cheer your subjects up!" at the look on Edmund's face, Peter could only mumble incoherently,_

"_But... but…" _

"_No 'buts'. I'll make sure that nobody messes up your armoury while you're away. Satisfied?"_

----

"What do you think happens back home… if you die here?" Oh good grief. Now Peter was becoming philosophical about the whole thing… understandable, really, considering he thought that he may well kick the bucket. Edmund would never let that happen, even if he broke every rule in the book to assure his brother's safety.

But really, this was not the time for a philosophical debate. Edmund checked his brother's armour over, looking for snags or dents. "You know you've always been there, and I never really -" Edmund quickly grabbed his brother's elbow and with an expert shove and twist, snapped the joint back into place, abruptly putting an end to that line of thought. Peter groaned and bit his lip, his face becoming even paler.

"Save it for later," Edmund snapped - it was his way of saying, _'Get a hold of yourself, don't become a drip now - now's not the time.' _It was also his way of saying, _'Don't worry, you're not going to die, I won't let you. Now stop trying to tell me something I already know, get out there and beat him.'_

Edmund knew his brother had a huge heart, and he always admired the way his brother could be so openly affectionate with everybody – but it truly annoyed him when his brother decided to talk like a prat. Mushy, girly stuff… it was allowed when things really were going south… but until then, that sort of thing made Edmund extremely uncomfortable. It was like someone telling him he was 'beautiful' (a highly embarrassing incident which only happened once) how could one reply? How could one acceptably receive such statements?

It was only after everything, once they were back in England, that Peter tried to say it again.

"Look, Ed, about what I said back in Narnia… I never would have…"

"I know Peter,"

"Yes but that doesn't -"

"Peter, for heaven's sake, just drop it ok? If, and only if, I start that sort of conversation, may you begin talking freely."

"But -" Edmund looked at his brother sternly,

"Peter… I know you would die for me, and you know I'd die for you. But there's no need to say it, right?"

"Ed, really -"

"No, Peter, we help each other all the time – there's no need to thank each other for the small things. After all, it's only by doing the small favours and supporting each other in little ways all the time that we're able to do the big, important things during vital times." Peter opened and closed his mouth several times… that was probably the longest speech he'd ever heard from his brother. And he didn't know what to say.

So he settled for a smile and an affectionate nudge with his arm, chuckling as Edmund huffed in mock-despair and shuffled away slightly, "Oh cry me a river… I finally impart deep wisdom and only _now_ you say you appreciate me? Extraordinary." The sarcastic response made all four Pevensies laugh as the tube train took them back home.


End file.
